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In native culture, the web of a dreamcatcher is believed to harness and allow good dreams to filter through to the individual.

Sleep is a portal to our dreams, a departure from existential life. Prophetic dreams are considered to be the unconscious mind piecing together information that is overlooked throughout consciousness. For those who utilize dreams, this can be a prolific gateway to delve into our future selves.

Where the conscious mind is occupied with mindless chatter and at times doubt, the unequivocal knowing mind is palpably intuitive in a dream state. Accessing the higher mind through our dreams takes repetition and memory, much like building muscle. Learning to transmute their messages in a profoundly meaningful way can reveal our ultimate purpose - lending a sense of peace and direction in career, relationships, your calling.

Symbolic dreams are a potent reflection and release of our inner most world; a synergist to living a balanced four dimensional life of the spiritual, mental, physical and social/emotional; an exaltation of hopes, desires and a soulful existence is a direct reflection of what lies within us and for what is entirely possible.

A great book :: The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho.

* Keep a notepad and pen next to your bed. Write down what you can remember as dreams arise or as thoughts come throughout the day. Remember, they are not necessarily literal. Reflect upon what they mean to you.

This holiday forward I wish you peace, joy and abundance. I am eternally grateful for your support!

You did it! This race was tight - projected to be a real close one, up until election night. This is important, so please listen carefully: I’m writing to ask that you find your voice; metaphorically speaking that is.

Personally, I think there’s much you can learn from Vice President Joe Biden. I’m certain there are times he’s opened his mouth and you’ve prayed he’d wind up with a bad case of laryngitis. The fact that he lacks a filter is blatant; but there’s something refreshingly raw and downright adorable about “Amtrak Joe”.... he likes to have fun.

He doesn’t care what you think because he knows who he is and what he stands for, a quality that comes with age and experience.

Like so many Americans who voted for you in your first term…. you had me at “hope” and then at “change”. I have a request; I would love to hear your true voice. Not the charming guy who can roll out some amazing manifestos of encouragment with a disarming smile or the one who always chooses his words v-e-r-y carefully. I want the guy who broke into impromptu song with Al Green’s “Let’s stay together”. Bill Clinton wrote the book on it. Did it serve him? Who cares? Live a little - you've got a big job ahead.

Learn to use your uncensored voice that doesn’t stop when you know in your heart that the truth should be declared at any time. Take it from Joe, it can be quite liberating. Say what you mean to say, in a way that serves you.

Four more years, to make the biggest impact no president has ever made at a time when our country needs it most.

Four more years to inspire generations to come, in a way no president ever has. So go do what you say you’re going to do: go finish what you’ve started.

Mr. President, you’ve got this – please exercise your right to use it. We've got your back..... and so does Joe.

“Don’t ask what the world needs.
Ask what makes you come alive and go do it.
Because what the world needs is
people who have come alive.”
~ Howard Thurman

Who am I?

It’s a question we ask ourselves repeatedly throughout our life, while plodding along and good is just not, good enough anymore.

Doing what we’re good at, enables us to lay claim to inherent abilities that don’t necessarily guarantee sustained happiness or long term contentment.

Our actions can be driven by patterns we’re conditioned to. A “go to” place that evokes safety and comfort; behavior we’ve repeated habitually in many lifetimes.

Creating financial security and the manner in which we do so, is a mechanism of survival. Survival is a necessity – as humans we aresurvivalists. If we were mindfully able to actualize the way in which we receive and perceive what our true passion is by realizing our destiny as it was meant to be what would that look like?

The answer, success on all levels. The Physical, Spiritual, Emotional and Mental.

To favor a relentless unapologetic commitment to joy and happiness aka: (our soul’s purpose), is the mechanism in which we allow faith to supersede allowing us to receive exactly what this life holds for us - changing our trajectory and mindset from the unknown and undeserving to worthy, forever.

Be clear: Habitual changes and shift of mindset do not happen overnight. The key is uncompromising belief and faith in regard to how you wish to live your life. There comes a time when it best serves us to step away from ourselves by learning to trust instinct and let faith be the driver that transports us to our soul level: 24/7: This is your life.

So what can you do? Start here.

Change that sticks is slow, deliberate and incremental. Learn to settle into its timing, be present + go with the flow. Take at least one actionable step every day. After one week, one month or one year, you will see measureable outcome toward what it is you desire; be it career, relationships or wellness.

Regret is a waste of time. Yet, for me personally, if allowed one “do-over” it would be some of the parental choices I made specifically - mothering my son through the lens of my upbringing. The “giving” based on what I did or didn’t get, was clearly a one size fits all approach to parenting. My epiphany was sent special delivery last weekend while my son Shane was visiting home from college. Through 19 ½ years of being “Shane’s mom”, I’ve learned more about myself than any other life experience.

By modeling through action what I want for my son - I’ve learned to want morefor myself, to bemoreof myself.

Each day gives us opportunity for renewal; to allow room in our lives to get it right, to start fresh.

They say in life there are no do-over’s - that this is our final act. Last weekend I took my chance to get it right and grabbed it with both hands. It was my moment to speak with love and care, to take a top-down approach by way of his mind and heart. I said the things I’ve never said, in a way I know they’d be lovingly received; while gently and metaphorically cutting cords.

To willingly and authentically shed layer upon layer, by moving forward and emerging as a whole woman in a way that honors who I am; I’m allowing him to be the man he’s meant to become.

The only letter I‘ve ever written to a well known person was in June of 1968 to Ethel Kennedy. It was right after her husband Bobby was shot in the kitchen at the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles. I was 13 years old and grieving the future of our country.

A week earlier, my mom, sisters and cousin Pam and I all piled into our Ford Wagon Master in Tacoma, Washington. We were headed seven hours down I-5 to Roseburg, Oregon to see and hear Bobby Kennedy speak on the steps of the Douglas County Courthouse to a crowd of around 1500 people. It was my first encounter with a politician up close. I don’t remember the exact words of his speech, but I so vividly remember the goose bumps it left on my arms. He was charismatic, passionate, and inspiring. He was his brother, but better. It was the first time I felt like I was part of something bigger than myself and it felt amazing.

After the rally, we held up our campaign posters that said KENNEDY in big bold capitol letters and took each others pictures. In one picture my eyes are barely peaking over the large poster and beside me, my cousin Pam has a big smile on her face. Her bouffant hair-do is a testament to the times and the magic properties of a good teasing comb and a can of Aquanet.

We rode back up the freeway the next day full of hope, Orange Fanta and possibilities. In the long, dark tunnel of bad news, delivered nightly via Walter Chronkite and the CBS Evening news —in the form of body counts, tear gas, and race riots—Robert F. Kennedy was our bright spot at the end of it. I became hopeful. I held my breath. And then, unbelievably, a short a week later he was gone.

I didn’t know where to go with my adolescent grief so I took pen to paper and wrote to his widow, Ethel. I had to let her know how her husband had moved me. I had to let her know how sorry I was. I had to let her know how sad I was for her and her kids, for me, and our country. I didn’t expect to get a response. When the letter showed up in my mailbox, a few weeks later with a Massachusetts postmark on creamy white stationary, I was amazed. It was a typed response to my condolence letter, thanking me, and it was hand-signed, by Ethel, and I knew in my 13 year old heart she had really signed it. My grief found a place to go in that moment and in that place there was comfort.

Great men enter our hearts quietly on a first name basis, whether we’ve met them or not. On that night in November of 2008, when Barack came out on the Chicago stage and gave his acceptance speech, even though I was only watching on TV, I felt the goose bumps all over again, in a way I haven’t since 1968. My goose bumps and I looked over at my 15 year old daughter Riley, and I could see on her face, she knew history being made. I held my breath, sent a silent prayer upwards and chose hope again. Hope for this man who has sparked her political passion and re-ignited mine. Hope for Barack to be kept safe and to burn brightly for a long time to come...

Fast forward four years and here we are again. Same hope. Same worry. Same thought that if we dare to dream the bigger dreams, maybe, just maybe, it will all be worth it. My daughter is now 18, away at college and out of our nest for the first time in her life. I won’t be sitting beside her during the upcoming election night and I know she is buried in her new life so I text her with my pesky parental reminder: don’t forget to register and vote! For now, I’ll keep my fingers crossed and choose hope again. It is what I know how to do.

Star Roberts is at work on Hellsgate: Stories from A Northwest Childhood. Her essay “Moving Away” is a PNWA Literary Contest Finalist for 2012. When not writing, she can be found reading, nesting and mothering in the shadow of the Space Needle. She awaits good news at: stargish@comcast.net.

Last Monday after leaving physical therapy, I decided to drive through downtown Seattle en route to home for a change of scenery. As I turned onto sixth avenue in front of Nordstrom in the valet lane to my left, I saw a black town car. As I sat at the light, I noticed the valet had one of the most incredibly lit up smiles I’d seen in a very long time. Like a smile you see on Christmas day, when a child takes first glance at what Santa’s left under the tree.

Looking on with curiosity, directly next to me the door to the sedan opened. What happened next was nothing short of a miracle – it was as if the heavens opened up; out-stepped a statuesque honey blonde wearing a pencil skirt, high heels and a bright sunny yellow short trench coat. Her hair was pulled sleekly back into a high polished ponytail, her skin and make-up were to perfection. She exuded an air of fierce confidence like nobody’s business; she looked fantastic and she knew it. “Holy crap”, I thought to myself, I recognized her…it was Hollywood “A” list actress, Kate Walsh. Her presence was visually poetic; If I wouldn’t have looked like a complete nut job, I would have offered applause + snaps all ‘round. Let me tell you - that is one sexy gal. It actually made me inspired and proud if I may say, to be a woman.

Driving home, my thoughts raced: Why the hell can’t everyone find their sexy? I’ve actually heard people say out loud, “I used to be hot”. My personal opinion: that statement hits a low point, when we put that “out there”. On a soul level, it invariably makes that idea real. We all have our moments when we fall into complacency, but it goes much deeper than that. In my career as a Hair + Make-up artist, I’ve worked with many of the “beautiful people”, but what captured me was her attitude. The saying “attitude is everything”, is an absolute and true statement. That confidence is housed in all of us; we are all capable of that quality of mind.

Ladies, let’s break it down. Sporting bras old enough to exibit in a museum, your still rockin’ the high wasted “mom jeans” that give you mom booty and gee-zuz, wearing yoga pants for day wear when you’ve not been to an actual yoga class or the gym in months, (or at all)? I won’t even venture into hair + make-up territory, accept to say, the 80’s were not your best look and leave it at that. Step away from the time machine, stay focused on this current decade.

Men, what’s up? What’s with the Dockers, acid washed denim shorts and “Members Only” jacket? Since when were Jerry Seinfeld white “sport” shoes with shock resistant comfort soles considered okay? Not your best look hon. The aloha shirt worn by Tom Selleck, while solving crimes in his Ferrari on the Magnum P.I. series? Please, If you’re not Hawaiian, attending a luau or a fictitious person named Tommy Bahama, walk away. A special request: For the love of all that is decent, ditch the team sport shirts as street wear, it’s high time to break free from your fashion funk!

Once a month, wear a great pair of fitted jeans, a beautiful dress, or a fashionable suit coat. Or try test driving some kick-ass shoes and see how it makes you feel. Spend a little extra on a great hair cut and a bit more time on your grooming. Under your hood is hotness just waiting to happen. It’s not about vanity - it’s about self honoring, self expression and metaphorically finding your way back to “you”.

Be the “bomb”, get your swagger on, bring your sexy back – go find it. More times than not, we get in our own way. There's a fine art to growing into ourselves, a deliciousness that is life.

I don’t think I got “it” until the age of forty. I was schooled in the belief that a great friend is someone who shoulders your weaknesses and plays to your strengths.

The curriculum: Compliments of my Grandmother, born Catherine Veronica Arnold, affectionately known as “Grammie Caye”. Toward the end of her life I became her understudy. She possessed an inner beauty that transcended the physical; a characteristic you rarely find in youth. Over time and within the confines of life like my dear friends, she exuded graceful wisdom; a loveliness from the inside out.

Grammie Caye not only showed me what it was to cultivate and sustain friendships but more importantly, what it takes to be considered a lifelong friend that will not be long forgotten. She taught me the importance of inner resolve and emotional aptitude; the ability of carrying yourself and others simultaneously, being both a conduit and the glue.

As a friend in my twenties, I was pretty lackadaisical. I had this notion that I was the type of girl that preferred male friendships because to me, they felt less petty and unencumbered. Truthfully, I didn’t have the focus or depth for much more. Not to say I was a “bad” friend, I just had other priorities like finding and keeping “Mr. Right”. I lacked the chops to balance both a love relationship and deep emotional friendships with women.

What I’ve gleaned on friendship: (In no particular order).

The quality of your friendships, are a direct reflection of you and the effort you put into them – a simple concept to grasp. Having amazing friends raises the bar, creating opportunity to be the best you can be.

Your friends are sound bites of your alter egos, so to speak. When you’re thinking they’re slightly “off”, do a quick self-check in the mirror.

It’s about give and take. Friendships allow for the practice of healthy co-nurturing. This can be demonstrated in a variety of ways, find what works for you.

Change is constant. Like you, friendships can reinvent themselves. Friendships that grow synchronistically will stand the test of time.

When life is tough-going, a good friend offers soft shoulders. They don’t try to fix things; they can diplomatically juggle the ability to listen without judging and understand the value of honesty from a loving place.

Best friends are intuitive: they “show up” in both the good times and the sucky times. They have the inherent skill-set to know exactly what you need.

A good friend is totally vested; they’re happy for your good fortune and accomplishments.

Friends are your board of trustees, they will keep your interests safe and to heart.

Last week, the newswires were all abuzz with C.E.O. of Yahoo, Marissa Mayer’s pending pregnancy. It dawned on me, if we were talking about an expectant father such as Bill Gates…well, we just wouldn’t be. Not in the same context. We wouldn’t be questioning his ability to balance career and familial obligation. We wouldn’t dissect whether parenthood would be a distraction from his very important corporate role in the world. He wouldn’t be chastised for placing his career potentially above family and questioned in regard to how well he’d juggle his responsibilities. One thing that I’m sure of - that in spite of all the staff, “help”, money, systems in place, etc., career + family is indeed a balancing act for anybody, yet also rewarding. Why must we choose between the things we love?

For the longest time, I believed that having it all was possible, that life was a quest for balance. What I learned in reality was there is no such thing as a balanced life, particularly from a place of want. For those of us who desire more, life is full of concessions.

I was convinced that I did what I did for my family, out of fiscal need, financial sustenance + let’s face the straight up truth: as a member of the 99% club, let’s not forget the strength of a two income family. Like most, we do not own our home, (our mortgage company does), and at this very moment retirement is something we’ve planned for, but is a ways out.

disclosure + personal truth:The career path I followed was out of choice - for the accolades, the attention, the ego, feelings of grandeur and self worth. All the same logic a man would use to process his justification. While that may be acceptable (when well managed), it admittedly gave me a sense of completion in a way that family didn’t. I felt as though I was contributing to life’s bigger picture, really, my bigger picture.

I had this notion that having the kick ass career, the partner / husband / wife, aka (family) would be the end all be all. The façade of the white picket fence, that when crossing its threshold, all problems of the day would magically melt away.

I do and still want to believe, that I was for the most part, present: that my family’s perception would not be to the contrary. What I’m quite sure about is that I'll never get that time back and that’s something I’m not particularly okay with. My son, I pray, is.

First words, first steps, first bike ride, first mistake. All firsts.

disclaimer: I firmly believe that a woman or man, regardless of their role or responsibility, should aim for personal relevance and financial sustainability with the idea that: No matter what happens, there are options on the table at all times, with the ability to stand in your power. That’s a solid place to be.

While our “personal truths”, “beliefs”, “ideas" around family and career resonate with so many, or are even cause for contention: for those of you (men or women) who bust ass every day in or out of the home and want more for yourselves, while raising a family in some semblance…..